


Of God

by Space_gays_that_arent_in_space



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Background Kankri Vantas, Background Kurloz Makara, Background Mituna Captor, Background Relationships, Childhood Friends, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss of Virginity, M/M, POV Second Person, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Indulgent, Stream of Consciousness, Summer Love, The Devil is just freedom guys, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_gays_that_arent_in_space/pseuds/Space_gays_that_arent_in_space
Summary: Cabin 13 is cursed, two kids summoned The Devil in there and ended up damaged for it, that was what you have been told since you were ten. You know this myth as well as you know your prayers and your church hymns and the recipe for your favorite kind of marijuana infused pies. You know the myth of Cabin 13 because you lived in the aftermath of it.Cabin 13 has called out to you since you were ten, and the call has gotten louder every year since. Karkat has told you about how stupid it is to think that the devil lives in some run down Cabin and every time he says it you agree.After all, The Devil lives inside of everyone, it just needs a chance.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Of God

**Author's Note:**

> So midway through writing this I was like fuck I kinda want them to reunite but like I gotta know if anyone else would be interested in that. Also shit my second GamKar fic in like two days, I'm really obsessed with these motherfuckers

You’ve been coming to this place since you were too small to motherfucking remember. It is a sanctuary, your home meant to keep you all up close to the messiah’s motherfucking chest. It is a miracle meant to allow you sanctuary from a home that likes to chew you up and spit you out day after day, and this is your very last year. 

It’s more painful than you expected. The only constant you’ve ever had is now leaving you, with no way to ever come the motherfuck back. 

Well, actually, there is a way, but that way is not your path and you know it. You can only ever come back to this miraculous place if you decide to work here, and you can’t do that, not unless you become a pastor just like your father, all tall and imposing and dangerous-like, the aura of a man who does nothing but praise his lord every day. Your opposite save for the love you two share for your lord, it is the one thing your whole family can agree on-at least, it used to be. If you become him then you can all up and come here to preach whenever you want, bask in the sun and its holy miraculous glory whenever you want, but that isn’t a possibility. It never has been and you knew that the moment you heard it. 

You cannot preach to a room of children who have known you for so motherfucking long. You cannot sing the song of the messiah and tell them that they are the outcast children of his. You can’t break their hearts and watch as they curl up inside of themselves. You can’t preach to those little motherfuckers that remind you oh so much of the very self that you see whenever you pass a mirror. 

This is the place for children who are sinners, someone told you once. Those who let blasphemies spill off their tongues and crash to the ground like rotten eggs are born and sent here to be left in the motherfucking earth and purified by the lord’s righteousness. Right across the lake there is a camp, a camp that is the exact opposite of yours- a camp meant for the children who the messiah made to be loved. They pray in front of a pretty new fire pit and in their chapel isn’t made of rotten wood pews that wheeze when even a fly lands on their seats to gander at the lord’s holy words. Their mess hall is full of gourmet foods too, so you’ve heard-so you’ve imagined. They even have an assortment of desserts ripe for the taking. They are the promised land, what you have been told since you were 5 you could one day amount to if you tried hard enough, but now you’re 17 and you still haven’t the chance to do more than watch their archery lessons from across the lake. 

You are at that very same lake now, sitting in a circle and feeling your breath catch each moment you sit. Tonight is the very last one, the summer is coming to a close and soon as tomorrow morning you will see the van and Kurloz and lose that constant that you so love. There has always been something about the last day of camp that makes your breath hitch, there always has been. It’s suffocating, the same way that the very first day makes you feel like you’re gasping in breath after breath of fresh air after captivity. Your sense of freedom is only clipped by the poignancy of your sobriety, right up until you meet with the newest dealer of miracles who offers you up what you need. 

You watch the fire before you, dancing, throwing out miraculous little ember kisses to everyone around you. You know these flames well as you know your name, sometimes even better than that. They have danced for you for so many nights each one leaving you more grateful than the last, and this is the one that you are the most grateful for. They dance and dance and dance and motherfucking dance, all the while your troupe leader sings about the messiah’s heart being so full of love for you all. It reminds you of when you were a kid, when you didn’t have these songs committed to heart and had to try to keep pace with everyone else. You don’t have to do that anymore, though now you don’t sing with the group. Your brain can never get the words coming out of your mouth quite as fast as the others despite you knowing them all so very well. 

You feel something jab into your side, sharp and sudden. You look down and are blessed with Karkat’s visage. You didn’t know he was going to come to the last bonfire, but it isn’t surprising either. He could complain much as he wants about how stupid it is, but you know that he’s just as attached to this place as you are. 

You’ve known Karkat for almost as long as you’ve been coming to this camp. He was one of the many constants that made the sun keep turning in this holy land, and the thing that made this place the miracle it was. You can remember seeing him the first time, hair all long and curly, tied up tight with pretty pink ribbons. He had been so angry, so scared looking behind that ever present rage, like he knew that if he ever let go of it he would lose his one shield forever. He looks that way a lot now, too, especially on the last day of camp. When you meet his eyes you know that he has to leave his own sanctuary too, even if he refuses to admit it to this very day. You’d been coming to camp for a while by the time you met him and he was one of the many new faces. 

He was lovely, all up in a fluffy pink dress and covered head to toe in freckles and sun screen. Cute as he was though, you saw that fire within him. He was a sinner just like you, something wrong. He was a volcano just waiting for the chance to explode, a supernova, a bomb, a shooting star. Karkat Vantas was a force of nature, and you were motherfucking drawn to that. Drawn to him and his anger and his holy unholiness. He was wrong for being a boy, and you were wrong for something you didn’t understand yet. Both of you were blasphemous little creatures, and finding that you weren’t alone was a motherfucking miracle if there ever was one. 

During that very first summer with Karkat, you realized that this place could be a home to you. A home with days full of prayer and living alongside nature and playing with Karkat. You could eat it up like nectar and sleep your nights away without the fear that constantly crawled up your throat, all curled up in your bunk across the way from your very best friend. This was the miracle land, even if just across the lake there was a karaoke machine playing songs about the place high up in the sky being a miracle. 

Karkat looks up at you and opens his mouth, then closes it. All day he’s been doing this, trying to get words out his mouth and only letting you fill in what he could say with echoes of words past. You wonder if he wants to tell you that he feels the same way as you, all motherfucking sad and bittersweet that this is finally ending. Instead of hearing Karkat’s voice though, all quiet and scratchy like it gets every year around this time, you’re met with the troupe leader’s. 

The troupe leader himself is actually Karkat’s big bro, he’s completely unlike your best motherfucking friend. He never swears nor does he speak the lord’s name in vain, he also seems entirely against your bro’s insistence upon violence in the face of motherfuckers who disrespect him, always blabbering on about some sort of motherfucking trigger. You remember back when he used to hang out with Kurloz, always watching his motherfucking tongue around him just because he lost his voice and didn’t want to shame him cause of it. You wanted Karkat to come over when his big bro did, but he never seemed to be able to. Hell, there are times where you aren’t even sure that Karkat exists outside of this place, let alone a reality where you two can have miraculous fun times together. 

He says that the older-oldest kids are free to go as it is their last night, their final chance to say goodbye to the camp. Of course, it’s much wordier than that, with so many motherfucking run ons and tangents that you end up laughing before you can cue in on what he’s saying, and Kankri himself seems to be getting emotional in the middle of it. Karkat pulls you away after he says you all can take your motherfucking leave. 

He pulls you into the woods, hand tight as a motherfucker around your wrist. His shoelaces are untied, and you don’t know why you notice this. When you focus on the ground instead of the dirt of Karkat’s shoes you see leaves and dirt and sticks that you’ve known since you were a kid. If you wanted, you could navigate the entire woods, even find the tree where your big brother carved the name of his old flame into. You look up at the sky and see the stars, they’re bright tonight, beautiful. This is the last night you’ll see them like this, framed up by the motherfucking trees and forming a little picture that changes each and every time that you squint at them. It hurts to think, no matter how true it is. When you look back down, right in front of you, Karkat presents you right to Cabin 13 and you feel yourself grin for the very first time tonight. 

Cabin 13 is cursed, two kids summoned The Devil in there and ended up damaged for it, that was what you have been told since you were ten. You know this myth as well as you know your prayers and your church hymns and the recipe for your favorite kind of marijuana infused pies. You know the myth of Cabin 13 because you lived in the aftermath of it. 

One of those kids cursed by The Devil was your big motherfucking brother, and the other was his very best brother, Mituna. You were too young to be allowed out after campfire time, and Kurloz was just old and all clever enough to sneak about where he wanted. That was how Kurloz ended up all inside Cabin 13. He never told you what happened up in the cabin that night, only that it made him see the whole world differently, your only memory of that night is ambulances at the camp, and Karkat sitting beside you, holding your hand as you prayed to the lord that everything was okay. Kurloz had went home early then, and he hasn’t spoken a word since the very last night he had been to the camp as a camper. Sometimes, after that, he would write you little notes, making you promise to burn them right after you read them. His face was swollen under all the make up he wore, and it was during that time that you realized what a terrifying motherfucker your father was. 

Cabin 13 has called out to you since you were ten, and the call has gotten louder every year since. Karkat has told you about how stupid it is to think that the devil lives in some run down Cabin and every time he says it you agree. 

After all, the devil lives inside of everyone, it just needs a chance. 

You never want to give it that sort of chance, even though you muddy up your mind and do things that God has never been fond of, you never want to give the devil the chance to crawl all up inside you. Karkat’s hand tightens around your wrist as you look at the cabin, it’s overrun with plants of all sorts and the door is halfway off its hinges. It’s maw is gaping and open, the devil waits inside of places like these, you once heard. It hides in dark corners and waits to eat up kids like you, and this camp is saving you from that. You pull your eyes away from the darkness staring motherfucking back at you and instead look down at Karkat. He’s chewing at his lip, like he’s suddenly afraid of it all, of the rumors and the future and what it means that the two of you are recreating what happened almost a decade ago. You take a step forward, knocking him out of his motherfucking gaze and getting a look at his miraculous face. 

”You have a reason for taking me all up over here, Karbro?” You cock your head to the side when you speak and feel the way that your hair brushes against your camp appointed cotton t-shirt. 

Karkat opens his mouth, this time he’s given the chance to speak. “I wanna-I wanna see...I wanna see if the fucking devil is in there. I mean, might as well spend our last night before we’re kicked from this absolute hole of pig shit seeing if those rumors are true, and if they are then that means we can probably ask ‘im to curse this place or something,” he barks out a laugh but you can still see the fear behind his eyes. 

He’s too anxious to up and monologue, but that’s okay. You want to go inside too and rest this ache that so lingers within you. You move your hand so that it’s clutched in his, both of your palms are clammy from the summer heat and Karkat’s penchant for running too hot for his own surroundings. You like it though, you enjoy how your brother is always so motherfucking warm and how you can feel your own perpetual coldness seep right into him as you suck up his miraculous warmth. Each step you take toward the mouth of the cabin you can feel your stomach rising. You’re waiting for something to happen, waiting to understand what your brother might have felt when coming here, but you realize now that you are not playing your motherfucking brother in this performance. No, you’re Tuna, confused and hopeful as you hold your best friend’s hand and wait to see The Devil. 

When you step inside, there is nothing of miracles or curses, just weeds and the scent of old wood and a double bed. You never knew that this was a counselors cabin until now, maybe even a troupe leader’s. You walk toward the bed, and when you fall on to it you can see dirt dance up into the moonlight like motehrfucking fairy dust. It’s beautiful in the same way that the camp is. It is all so old, and yet it begs you for nothing more than the self you carry around all the time. Karkat looks at the bed with disgust that he usually only saves for the frogs you present to him. 

”C’mon Karbro,” You coax him by swiping your thumb across his knuckles “Nothin’ like the motherfuckin devil on the bed, promise” You assure him with a wide, dopey grin and he folds. 

The springs on the mattress sing motherfucking hymns as you feel his weight shift on the bed. He is quiet then. He’s so quiet that you can only hear his rattling breaths, sudden and sharp. He has been holding himself together all night and now you are seeing the honesty of his feelings. He wraps himself around you, warm and soft against the sharp angles of your body. He fits against you perfectly and you know this, you have known this for a long time. Like a dance you’ve done a thousand times you wrap your arms around him. 

”Karbro,” Your voice is quiet and spiders climb up your throat. You feel stranger than you have all day. 

”Yeah?” Karkat’s voice is just as meek as yours, and you feel like you’re little kids again, hiding underneath the bed in his cabin while all the other girls were out. 

”I’m gonna motherfucking miss you, best friend” 

”Yeah yeah, I’ll just fucking text you or something, there won’t be anything to miss then.” He says it so matter of factly that you almost forget that he can’t. 

”Don’t have a phone, ‘member? It’d be a motherfucking miracle if you could though,” He stiffens in your arms and you wonder if you’ve done something to him. 

”Then-then give me your email or something. I’ll message you on that. Just because your dad is some sort of evangelist with his head stuck so far up his ass that he doesn’t know which way is out doesn’t mean that I can’t get to talk to the guy I’ve known since the first fucking grade,” 

You mull it over for a few moments, feeling the way that Karkat’s muscles tense underneath your hands and in your arms. 

”Yeah, sounds like a miracle if I ever heard one. Just gotta pull that motherfucker all up to the front of my memory and we’ll be good to go,” You smile at him, and when he smiles back at you you feel weak in the knees. 

You go back to laying in silence, Karkat pressed up against your chest playing all with the hem of your t-shirt and stretching it out more than it already has been over the years, you refuse to buy a new one despite the fact that it’s surely too small for you now. You decided, even when you hit your growth spurt, that you could never get rid of this shirt, not when it is so important to this brotherhood of yours. You keep rubbing Karkat’s back, feeling the little divots in his skin and the way that he arches up when you get too close to that spot. You always stop yourself, no matter how badly you want to trace over his shoulder blades and run your finger from the base of his spine up to his neck. 

Karkat breaks the spell you two have made together by speaking once again, and you feel yourself sink a little bit deeper into the dirty mattress. 

”Hey Gamzee,” 

”Yeah brother?” 

”What’re you gonna do? After all this..I mean…” 

”I don’t know….probably follow whatever motherfucking miracle I find,” 

Your father wants you to follow after his footsteps seeing as big bro won’t, but you know that that won’t happen. You know that the day you turn eighteen you and Kurloz are gonna move out and live out of his van for as long as motherfucking need be. _That_ will be the miracle that you will find. You’ve been planning it for years and after this month is over your dream will become real. 

”It’s completely like you to have no life plan,” He grips the base of your t-shirt tight in his fists, and you watch as it loses its shape even more than it already has. 

”What about you Karbro, what’re you gonna do?” 

Karkat shrugs then, burying his face into your chest. He’s mentioned college before, and you admire him for it. He seems passionate about just going, his major seems to just be a plus. It’s sweet as candypie and you want to be able to experience something just like motherfucking that. 

You look at the ceiling, vines from the wall dangling all above you and stars peeking through the cracks in the ceiling marred by water damage. Karkat would call this place a deathtrap if he wasn’t so busy messing with your shirt, sticking his fingers against your flesh inside the holes that you’ve both worn into the motherfucking thing. You don’t want this night to end, you don’t want to never see your Karbro again, you want the world to stay just like this, make time stop or run off together all Bonnie and Clyde style. You bet that Karkat would like something like that, long as you showed him the miracle like it was one of his programs. The thought makes you smile, and you pull Karkat a little bit closer to you. 

”Hey, Karbro” 

His fingers against your skin are extra warm, and you wonder what his hands would feel like. 

”What is it?” 

”You think we’re ever gonna motherfuckin see each other after tonight?” 

Karkat goes quiet and you know that he doesn’t think you will. You wonder if he’ll lie to you, for the sake of the two of you. You want to tell him to be honest, tell him that you may not be the most schoolfed but that doesn’t mean you can be tricked so easily. 

”No. I don’t.” His voice is shaking and he’s holding you impossibly tight. 

You roll on to your side and clutch him close to your chest. He’s going to be gone just like you and just like this camp and just like everything else in this place that you have loved for so very motherfucking long. You feel something looming over you now, something like pain, like love, like hate, like secrets, like The Devil, and you wonder if this is what Kurloz experienced when he went here. You wonder if the reason that things went so wrong is because he was just as furiously in love as you are. You wonder if you will end up the very same. 

You lean down now and kiss the top of Karkat’s head. You can feel his tears seeping into your shirt and that’s all that it takes to set you off. You can’t cry audibly, you aren’t the motherfucker to do something like that, even still you feel wet tears slide down your cheeks with the promise of tomorrow coming with even more melancholy. This miracle is being sucked away from you hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second. This moment is pain and longing and love and sorrow and in your frenzy to become yourself again you kiss him, grabbing up his cheeks tight in your hands and pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss you share is ugly and you feel The Devil watching from the corners. It doesn’t matter though, it can’t matter because you two have each other and that is all you need. 

You kiss him like he is a dying star and you are making one last wish and in this moment he is yours to consume. You love him and you cannot have him and he motherfucking knows this. He grabs at the back of your shirt and holds it tight. The fabric will be deformed with the way his hands anchor you to him. 

His mouth is soft against yours and you feel the way his braces that he’s had since you two were fourteen brush against your lip. Last summer he had said they would be off by this one, instead they’re here and cutting at the inside of your mouth and you love it. You want your blood to pour into him, just so that a piece of you will be with him always. You want the same for yourself, you want to bite his lip and taste his blood, feel a piece of him go with you forever. You never want him to forget you, and you never want to forget the miracle that he has been for you. You keep your hands on his face and try to pull him impossibly closer. He is everything, your whole world pressed into one person who you’ll never see again by morning. You love him. You love him so much. You’re crying again, soft hiccups pressed into his mouth as your cheeks become wetter and wetter by the second. You pull away and look at him in the light of the moon, he’s crying. You hold each other close as you can for a long time, hand in hand, cheek to cheek. You’re just as scared as he is, to leave the miraculous little bubble you’ve made for yourselves here. You don’t want to leave him, not like this, not when you know that he is more than you have ever experienced before. He is what people mean when they talk about miracles, people who cannot be ignored. He is more than you ever expected to face here. You love your lord, you’d give up everything for him body and soul, but when you feel the brush of Karkat’s hand all up against yours, you find yourself hesitating for the first time in your life. 

It’s when you kiss him again that thing escalate between you two. It is all short bursts of moments, stars colliding as you two press and rub against each other. He consumes more and more of your mind, he has unknowingly cast a spell of miracles on a motherfucker. It isn’t until that you’re both pantsless and panting into each other’s mouths that you grow hesitant. You want him to take a piece of you along with him and you can hear every single thought you’ve had about him in your life all in that moment. You love him, you want him, you cannot leave this place without him knowing these things, you want and want and want until you are nothing but that desire, and you become The Devil. 

You are The Devil, and he is The Devil, and as you slide inside of him you realize that sin is just another word for a miracle. You press yourself so deep inside of him you feel like you’re being eaten alive. Your foreheads are pressed close to each other and with your every thrust the springs in the bed sing their little gospel even louder. You kiss Karkat, hard, bite his lip until it bleeds. He smells like outside and sweat and his ever present rage. He is a forest fire and you want to burn alive within him. He is hot and breathing against your neck, saying your name like a prayer. You did not realize how good this would all feel, or maybe you’d never let yourself think about it before, how tight and hot and wet it would all be. Your mouth is swollen from kissing and with each lave of Karkat’s tongue over your neck you wonder if you’ll be capable of leaving. You wonder if here, in this bed your soul will be stuck. You wonder if you will ever be able to move on from the night that your best friend cried your name into dirt covered motherfucking sheets and looked at you like you were really _something_. 

You could write a thousand poems about this, sing a thousand songs, you want to make a living out of sharing your love for this boy right beneath you whose teeth are sinking so sharply into your neck. You grab at his sides, burn the feel of his flesh into your mind as you fuck into him. It is raw and dirty and perfect and holy. It is everything that miracles are supposed to be, and when he clutches you close, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, you know with absolute assurance that this is what it means to be The Devil, for you have been irrevocably changed, possessed by the spirit of this cabin. You kiss him again before you pull out and he is so perfect. He takes you into his hand and completes you and you pour miracles right on to the flesh of his stomach. 

You pant beside him and in the air the scent of dirt has been meshed with sex. This night will live forever in your memory, the feeling of his lips against yours, how his whines were motherfucking music. How you saw The Devil and he did too. 

You leave the cabin what feels like hours later, you did it again and saw the very same devil you did before, and when you walk hand in hand you wonder if this is really the last time. You don’t look back at the cabin when you do though. No, instead you look at him, you look at his curls and his skin and the way his teeth are still a little fucked up even with the braces. You commit this Karkat, _your Karkat_ to your memory. He is a miracle that will be lost to the messiah, that is the only way that this can be, and when you two leave this place for the very last time, he will go back to being the preacher’s daughter and you the disappointment child. 

Even still-even yet, you two will have this night, and you will have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi kudos, comments, etc are greatly appreciated and there is a 99% chance that if you comment I'll reply.
> 
> @tamyura_on twt  
> @porcelain_babies on insta


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